


Five times Nick Fury shot down an Avenger and one time he just shot one

by 51PegasiB



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Dubious Consent, Flirting, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, No Sex, Other, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51PegasiB/pseuds/51PegasiB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Fury puts up with a lot to keep his teams going, but with the Avengers, he's putting up with more than he bargained for. How many people can hit on him without really meaning it? And how firmly will he have to say 'no' before they believe it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Nick Fury shot down an Avenger and one time he just shot one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omnia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omnia/gifts).



> Omnia said she wanted to see a story where Nick Fury had to turn down each of the Avengers in turn. I hope this suits.
> 
> The story gets less heavy as it goes along. The first section is definitely the most grim.

Nick long ago learned to pretend he didn't have a heart to break. This job was pain on pain. Good people were lost in the field all the time and terrible things had happened to a lot of them. 

You don't become a bad-ass motherfucker because you had a happy family life behind a picket fence. 

But his first meeting with the new agent struck him right in the chest. The man looked at him in fear after Nick had closed the office door. The agent dropped to his knees in front of him. Nick froze. 

"Barton, what are you doing?" The tow-headed young man was reaching for his belt. Nick stepped back. "Get up." 

The young man sighed. Medical had estimated him at twenty-two, but it was impossible to be sure. Barton wasn't sure himself. He stood and looked at Fury's shoes. "You want me over the desk, instead?" His voice sounded resigned.

"What? Fuck no. Sit your ass down." 

The kid looked up at him with confusion. "I. . . what do you want me to do?" He sat down slowly where Fury indicated. 

"Your job. We want you for your aim, not any. . . other skills you may have."

The look of surprise and gratitude on Clint's face broke Fury's heart. 

"Look, here's the contract. Read it over and let me know if you have any questions before you sign." 

Barton shrugged and picked it up, flipping to the back. "Give me a pen." 

"Not yet. You read it."

Barton swallowed. "I'm not so good with the. . . legal words." 

The contract was in plain English. The man must have trouble reading at all. Fury picked up a phone. "Coulson? Can you come up and go over the contract with our new recruit?”

"He'll take care of you. And you don't need to offer him anything for it, Barton. It's his job." 

Barton tried to hide that he was shaking as Phil ushered him out. Fury sat down and laid his head into his hands and thought about how many people had come in broken that he'd helped put back together before sending them out to get smashed, again. He opened his desk drawer and poured himself a belt of bourbon and drank it before he turned to the next thing on his agenda.

* * * 

Years later, when Barton brought the Black Widow in instead of killing her as ordered, he yelled at Barton and then Coulson and then Barton again. Then he went to go see her. 

"Are you in charge?" she asked him through the glass of her cell.

"Of what?" he asked. 

"You are," she said. She licked her lips and tilted her head, parting the lips just so - a calculated artlessness that Nick couldn't help but find appealing. "You're the one I want to see." She stroked her fingers down the glass and pressed against it. 

"Well, you're seeing me. What do you want? Why did you decide to come in with Barton?"

She laughed and flipped her hair. "Because I heard, of all the spy organizations, this one has the most power. I wanted something. . ." she licked her lips again and slid her eyes along his body to stare obviously at his crotch. "bigger." 

He watched her impassively. She stepped back from the glass and started to peel the white sweatshirt they'd given her off. She was wearing nothing but a tank top underneath it. She started to peel that off, too. 

"Why don't you come on in, General?"

"I'm not a General, Widow. I'm the Director. You're not going to get your chance that easily. I'll see you in a few weeks after the deprogramming team has started on you." 

She pulled her shirt back on, eyes cold, all trace of flirtation gone. She shrugged. "I will, apparently, be here." 

"Damn right you will. Let me know if you need a magazine or something." 

Nick walked out. If he headed to the gym to take a cold shower, that was nobody's business but his own.

* * *

On the third day after Nick ushered Captain America back to SHIELD headquarters after he'd escaped into times square, the man had asked, through channels, for Nick to come see him. He showed up promptly. He might be the director of a massive international spy organization, but Captain America was a law unto himself. 

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically mild.

"Yeah. Yeah. I've been thinking about it," Rogers said, walking over to close the door behind Nick, and getting right up in his space to do it, then not backing off.

"Thinking about what?" 

Rogers boxed Nick in, leaning one hand against the wall so his well-muscled arm was between Nick and the room. Nick could feel the look of surprise threatening to cross his own face and clamped down on it with nothing more visible (he hoped) than a tightening of the jaw. 

"If you're not going to let me out of here unattended, the least you could do is provide me with a little entertainment."

Nick did arch an eyebrow at that. "What sort of entertainment were you thinking of, Captain?" 

Steve leaned in close - eye to eye and lip to lip with Nick. He could practically feel the super-soldier heartbeat. "You know what kind. Come on, Director Fury. Let's go or let me go. Your choice." 

Nick's mind raced. Was Rogers being serious, or was this some kind of game he was playing? He decided to call the man's bluff the only way he could think to without actually kissing him. "Well, if you really want that, I'll see who has clearance. I'm sure we'll have no shortage of volunteers."

Steve sighed and slumped back, all the play going out of him. "Forget it. I just want to go outside. Start learning about the. . . future," he looked like he could barely get the word out.

Nick had to smile at that. "If you thought you were going to disconcert me into it, Captain, you definitely have a lot to learn. Look, I'll have someone in today to start getting you up to speed. I'm sorry the pace has been so slow."

"Thanks. I. . . it's a lot to take in." 

Nick nodded and turned to go. Then he turned back. "Did that kind of move work in World War II?" 

Rogers grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Depended on the fella." 

Nick snorted and swept out.

* * * 

Banner approached him after a year living back in civilization. He shuffled into Fury's office looking even more uncomfortable than he normally did in SHIELD HQ, which was a feat. He cleaned his glasses and looked at Nick, almost managing to hide his own embarrassment. 

"I need your help," he said. 

Nick raised an eyebrow. Banner requesting support was entirely unprecedented. "With what?" 

"I need to find out if I can safely have sex," Banner said in his usual level, tired voice. 

Nick was glad he wasn't drinking anything, because spit-takes were hell on the leather coat.

"What do you expect me to do about that?" He leaned over the desk and loomed at the scientist.

Banner did not seem intimidated, merely tired. Nick hated that about Banner. The man sighed and cleaned his glasses, again.

"It's easy when you're far from home, when you go to places where you don't fit in at all, and when the differential in life experience, in education, in power. . ." Bruce paused, looking down at his own hands. "Easy to distance yourself from other people. Easy to turn down propositions. Easy to make sure they never even come your way." 

Fury listened and gave the man a hard stare. "I say again, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I've figured out recently that it's not going to be so easy to keep a lid on my sexuality when living with five of the most physically attractive people on the planet, two of whom are outrageous flirts and at least one of whom keeps looking like they might eat someone alive." Bruce met Fury's gaze. "If I can't keep a lid on my sexuality, I still need to keep a lid on the other guy. I can't test this alone. I've tested. . . ah," he looked sheepish. . . "plenty alone and it's. . . definitely not the same." 

He quickly swallowed and stumbled on with his little speech. "I need someone to help me who is aware of the dangers, who has clearance, who I trust. . . enough and who won't lose their head if the Hulk turns up." 

Nick narrowed his eyes at the man. "Are you suggesting you want me to give you a hand-job. . . for science?" The last word came out as a threatening hiss.

Bruce visibly swallowed, the first real sign of fear he'd shown. He nodded. 

Nick leaned back and snorted. "Hell, no! Get stark to make you a robot or something." 

"I. . ." Bruce swallowed again. "Yeah. I can probably just. . . keep a lid on it a while longer." He stood and hastened out of Nick's office. 

"And tell your team I am not here to work out their relationship problems!" Nick called after him. He held his laughter till the man was well out of earshot. 

* * *

When Thor walked up to him after a hard-won fight in the middle of a stretch of Iowa farmland, Nick was prepared for the bone-shaking slap on the back, but not really prepared for what Thor said to him afterward.

"Furious Nicholas, my father has requested that I speak with you." 

"Uh...okay," said Nick. "What about?" 

"Walk with me a little way," requested Thor, his hand still on Nick's shoulder. Nick walked. Thor actually spoke at a more moderate volume when they were a little way off. "Good sir. . . you do not, by chance, have daughters, do you?" 

Nick raised an eye at Thor. "No. Why?"

"Nor an unwed female relative. . . perhaps a cousin?" 

"Thor? Tell me what this is about!" 

"My father, in apology for the damage Loki has wreaked on this world, and in token of his ongoing esteem, would like for me to offer a more permanent alliance."

Nick wasn't slow on the uptake, but he found himself blinking at Thor. "Are you saying you want to marry my daughter? What about Doctor Foster?"

"Diplomatic relationships often take precedence over the heart's desire when one is a prince. It would hurt me to have her only as mistress but would be a hardship I would happily bear for the sake of peace." 

"Well, I'm not the ruler of Earth, Thor." 

"You are a powerful man. Your organization greeted us and you often choose to speak for Earth when none other will step forward. That is enough." 

Nick shook his head. "I don't have any daughters, in any case. And it's not necessary." 

"Are you certain? I understand in current Midgardian culture many men marry men. If you wish it, I will offer my hand to you, yourself." 

Nick's eyes went wide. "No. Thor. I assure you. We're good. You can tell your father that you made the offer, we courteously declined and that the. . . alliance can proceed along other diplomatic lines."

"Very good!" Thor grinned and clapped him on the back, again. He strode back to meet the others. Nick shook his head. It was too fucking bad his memoirs would be classified. But then, no one would believe all the shit he went through, anyway.

* * * 

Nick was stuck in quarantine with Tony Stark and one of them was going to wind up dead. Or so he assumed. Tony had gotten a lungful of *whatever* it was that Hydra had released into the lab they had been checking. Nick had held his breath and dragged the man out of there. Stark had started to claw at his own clothes and at Nick's, trying, apparently, to remove them. 

Nick had put him in a little bit of a choke hold till Tony had passed out. He wasn't putting up with that nonsense while he was trying to get the idiot genius into a fireman's carry, to get them the fuck out of there. After all, he was getting to old for all this bullshit.

Stark was not going to be happy with him when he woke up. 

He'd tried to convince the staff that he was fine, but they pointed out that he was the one to insist that the quarantine policies should be applied across the board. Nick smiled to himself. They were good people. They took no shit.

"You choked me." Stark croaked from the bed in the corner. 

Shit. He was awake.

Nick watched him slide to a sitting position. He shot Nick a look. Nick was standing on the other side of the room by the observation window. Stark stood and advanced on him. "You *choked* me."

"Stark, you were fighting me when I was trying to get us out of there. My resources were limited."

Stark was starting to crowd his space, now, and Nick put up both hands - half conciliatory gesture, half trying to prevent Stark from getting closer. Stark looked strange. His pupils weren't right. He surged forward and between Nick's arms and licked his neck. "Do it again," he moaned. "Slower, this time." 

Nick's arm slammed out to the side and he hit the emergency button so hard he thought he might have sprained his wrist. 

"Stark. You need to back the fuck up right now," he growled, trying to push the man away without injuring him further. Tony was still obviously under the influence of whatever he had gotten a dose of and the compromised man was getting physical with him in ways that he never would in his right head. This was so not okay.

"Come on. Just knew you were kinky, Nicky. Knew it. You know you want this. Everyone wants this. I want you. I need you. Come on." Stark was trying to slide Nick's t-shirt off. Nick batted his hands aside and made a dive for the other side of the room. Stark pursued him. Nick circled around and dove for the door and hit the button again.

"What's the matter? You need to see the goods? Come on, Nick. I need you. I'm burning for it," said Stark. He licked his lips and started to strip. He was buck-ass nude by the time the medical response team showed up. They took in the situation and still seemed baffled. "Director, report!" 

"Stark seems to have lost all inhibitions and is begging me for sex." he said.

"Oh, you want me to beg, director Fury?" Stark started crawling across the floor on his scrawny white knees. 

"Get me the fuck out of here!" Nick yelled at the staff outside. 

"We can't do that, director." 

"Then fucking give me a weapon," he said. 

Something was shoved through the slot. It was gun-shaped so he dived for the door, grabbed the thing from the tray and shot it into Stark's arm. The man went down hard in the middle of the floor. Fury approached him and saw the dart sticking out of his shoulder. He felt for a pulse - it was strong and steady. 

"He should wake up in two to three hours, director," said the medic on the other side of the door.

"Well, you'd better get me another one of these damn things by then," Nick growled at him.

"How did you know to shoot for the arm, director? I was about to tell you, but you had already..."

"I didn't know the damn thing shot tranqs. I didn't want to kill the best engineering mind on the planet. I was going to wing him."

The medic looked frightened and backed out of the observation room. Nick sighed and then started to laugh. Sometimes he didn't even believe his own life.  
The next time Stark woke up, he seemed to have recovered from the dose he'd taken in the lab, but after twenty minutes of his chatter, Fury was thinking of tranquilizing him again on principle. 

“Why do I put up with your bullshit?” Nick asked him, bluntly, when Tony paused for breath. 

“Because you need me. I'm an Avenger,” said Stark, with a smug grin. 

He sighed, heavily. 

Stark's grin broadened even further. “You know I'm right, Nick. Anyway...you love it.” 

Nick closed his eye and let his head thud back against the wall as Stark continued to babble. The man loved to hear the sound of his own voice, but damned if he wasn't right. Nick needed him. He needed them all, and he'd known it before they did. 

He put up with a lot to keep these fuckers in line, and he guessed he was just going to have to keep doing it.


End file.
